


The Boy With the Camera

by Amurtinyburr12



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Child Neglect, Happy endings though, Jason Todd is Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:41:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9335513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amurtinyburr12/pseuds/Amurtinyburr12
Summary: He wanted to go up to Wayne Manor, knock on the door and tell Alfred, the butler, that he wished to join their family. But he never did. Watching was as close as he would get.(Or, the story of how Tim Drake became Robin re-invented.)





	1. Origins

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last year actually around June or so. I just never posted it, so here it is :)
> 
> Also, I should note that I feel there isn't enough Tim Drake whump on this site. That sounds terrible, now that I realize what I've just said but I don't really care.

The first time Tim tried to heat up a can of split pea soup by himself was when he was three and as a result he burned himself on the stove top. He remembered the white hot pain, but in comparison to the panic swelling in his chest, it was nothing. His parents were on an archaeological dig in South America but were scheduled to return within the hour. It had taken Tim several seconds to register that he'd been burned. The shock of the injury had temporarily blinded his senses to the actual injury.

However, the surprise was short lived and the wound soon began to sting something awful. Tim rushed to the medicine cabinet and applied a cream to his throbbing elbow (something he'd seen his mother do before). It hurt to touch the blistering and rapidly reddening skin, but the paste itself was cool and soothing. It was so nice, that he found himself applying layer after layer of the stuff until it was all gone.

When his parents got home, he'd climbed into the cupboard to hide, fearing their reaction to the mess he'd created. He must have made a noise though, because it didn't take them long to find him. (That, or maybe he should have stopped reusing the same hiding place.) Inevitably, they scolded him. Rather than being concerned about his elbow, they reprimanded him for using up a whole tube of paste- did he not know how expensive it was? How could he be so stupid? He ought to be grateful that they bother keeping him, instead of sending him off to an orphanage. It'd be much easier.

Mother and father were right of course, just like always. He messed up everything he touched. It was a curse that he'd ever been born. His parents often mentioned that they hadn't even been trying to have him. Why would they? Tim stood there with his head lowered slightly and tried not to cry- they hated it when he did that- but a single tear still managed to sneak its way down his cheek. His father had seen it before he was able to wipe it away and had grown furious. After all, what child of his would cry over such an insignificant thing?

He was sent to bed without dinner and his ruined batch of split pea soup was forgotten on the stove top. It was found in the morning by the cleaning staff, wrinkled, putrid and cold.

Whenever Tim was sick, his parents made more of an effort than usual to ignore him. They rolled their eyes and told him to stop vying for attention. Even if his temperature peaked above 101 degrees, he was never allowed to take medication. Medicine was expensive and valuable and should only be used on people who were deserving. Sometimes Tim wished something awful would happen to him just so his parents would finally notice him. Maybe they'd feel bad.

Sometimes, if his mother was in an extremely good mood she would pull Tim onto her lap and fall asleep with him pinned tightly to her chest. Tim did his best not to squirm or move so as not to disturb her. These occasions were very rare and it was always uncomfortable but Tim didn't want to make his mother upset. When she woke up, she'd smile and ask him if there was anything at the stores that he wanted to have. Tim sometimes answered "yes" and went on to describe the object but most of the time he answered no. It was more likely that his parents would take the object away from him after an hour and lock it in a cabinet he couldn't reach. He didn't know if they did it to be cruel or not. However, one time he asked for a camera and some ink after his mother returned from a particularly successful dig and he was given it- much to his surprise. He quickly hid it in a box under his bed and later when his parents demanded he give it up he lied and told them that he'd lost it playing with it outside. The curses and scolding he received was well worth it and that night he tinkered with his new device until the sun came back over the horizon.

In public, he was expected to be the epitome of a perfect child. His parents were much nicer to him at socialite events, ruffling his hair and bragging to others how proud they were of their smart little Timmy. He hated being called Timmy-which both his parents knew- but Tim didn't mind so much when they hugged or touched his shoulder. There wasn't any sort of physical or emotional affection back at Drake Manor (save his mother in a good mood), so during the rare occasions in public, Tim drank the sensation in.

Tim had a feeling that it was wrong how much he craved their touch but he couldn't really bring himself to care that much. It felt too nice in the moment for him to worry about what sort of psychological effects it might be leaving on him. It's not like he knew any better.

They'd go a lot of places when his parents were home. His parents told him it was for "public appearances." They took him to the zoo, to the circus and to the museum. Whenever the press was around they'd lift him onto their shoulders and buy him all sorts of treats and smile at him a lot. Tim didn't know what to make of it but he was happiest when they weren't angry at him.

One time, when he was eight, he'd been sitting with his parents in a limo on the way to a charity event for Bruce Wayne when the car had jerked forward suddenly and his mother's wine glass had leapt from her hand and into his lap. It wasn't her fault though- Tim had been stupid enough to sit next to her where he knew the wine would spill if something like that happened. What sort of self respecting eight year old would do such a thing? The entire night Tim sat in the car and watched from the window as people danced, ate food and enjoyed themselves. He wasn't allowed to get out of the car- his mother "would die of embarrassment if any of the other families saw her son with that ghastly stain on his suit." Whenever someone happened to walk past the car, Tim had to duck down so they wouldn't see him through the window. It would give the Drakes a bad reputation and he'd done enough to soil it already. His parents had taken the keys with them and the driver had gone off somewhere so when the fourth hour of the event rolled around and the car got so cold that his lips turned blue, there was nothing he could do about it. It didn't help that his suit was still wet from where he had spilled his mother's wine on him. His camera was tucked into the folds of his suit, so he pulled it out and took a few pictures of the extravagant gathering inside. A lot of the woman were wearing sparkly dresses with tall thin heels and many of the men were clothed in dark velvety suits. Tim closed one eye and snapped a few photos of the pretty dance that a few of the guests were participating in. Those would develop nicely later on, he was sure.

At one point during the night someone had walked over to the car and rapped on the window. A young boys voice called out to him: "Hey, I can tell someone's in there. You've been in there awhile...are you okay?"

Tim, horrified that someone had found him- his mother had said not to be seen or heard- ducked down, curled into a ball and closed his eyes. He waited for the stranger to leave and eventually, they did. He could hear their soft sigh and the crunch of rocks under shoes as they walked away.

Tim resumed waiting, his stomach clenching with hunger as the hours dragged on. His mother had promised she'd bring him a few crackers so long as he stayed in the car and minded his manners. She didn't. When his parents finally returned after six long hours, his mother laughed when he asked about the promised snack. "I said if you were good you could have them Timmy. Don't be stupid." She was right, of course. Tim hadn't been good. He'd been seen.

Another time, on Tim's tenth birthday he found a sickly white and red-orange speckled cat in the yard. He'd never been allowed to have a pet before-but this one had appeared on his birthday. It must have been a sign. He and the cat became good friends, for the few minutes they'd been able to spend together. He petted its head as gently as he could, and it licked his hand in return with its small sandpapery tongue. He took pictures of it lying in the laying snug in the grass stems with it's tiny pink nose twitching and pictures of it gracefully scaling the aspen tree. When the cat's stomach rumbled Tim tucked his camera away and went inside to find it something to eat. As he was poking through the fridge he made the mistake of asking his father what sort of foods cats liked. The whole ordeal ended with Tim crying and tugging on his father's sleeve as he shot Tim's friend with a rifle.

_There is no room in the manor for a pet, you stupid boy. We've already been generous enough to care for your ungrateful hide as it is._

As much as Janet and Jack Drake neglected their son they were also ironically very invested in his education. The Drakes were perfectionists. If their son did not do well in school it was just as unfathomable as it was unacceptable. That left little time to make friends because he was focusing on his studies. They made it very clear that if he wasn't a star pupil, then he would be didn't have a place at Drake Manor. Tim was very bright and he picked up things in school fairly quickly. But he still had to push himself, lest he have to go home and present his parents with an A- test. Nevertheless, he liked learning. The world was fascinating, new things were around every corner. Everything was waiting to be discovered and captured by a photo from his camera. Unfortunately, his classmates didn't have the same perspective as him. They thought he was a freak because he was so quiet and obedient. The other kids were loud and rambunctious- everything Tim knew a child should not be. They acted only for themselves, spoke out of turn and participated in silly games like tag or hide in go seek. Children weren't supposed to play, Tim knew that. So while the other kids went out to recess he would stay inside to practice his mathematics or fiddle with his camera.

It was well known to the other students that Timothy Drake was probably socially impaired. That's what their parents said, anyway. "Don't near that Drake kid. He's an odd one."

For a group of kids who had been properly raised it did seem that something had gone wrong with Timothy Drake. Rather than feeling sympathetic for him however, this turned Tim into a target. There isn't much else other children like to do then to pick on a weaker kid who won't (or can't) defend themselves.

Tim had several bullying stories to his name. Too many to count, honestly. The time he'd been shoved into a hall closet and locked in, the time the other kids had pushed him out into a pile of snow and all the times his peers felt it necessary to steal and eat his food in front of him.

The most prominent of them all started out traumatic but Tim still remembers it with a sort of reverence. When the bell for the end of the school day rang, the kids whooped and hollered as usual. The mad dash to be the first out of the door began and soon everyone was gone, except Tim. He quietly gathered his things, placing first his pencil box into his briefcase followed systematically by his weathered copy of _Great Expectations_ and his camera. He'd taken his favorite photograph out of his pocket and clutched firmly in his hand, just as he always did, and proceeded to leave the school. (The other boys used to ask him why he didn't have a backpack with The Flash or Batman on it like everyone else and Tim had replied that it was silly and impractical. Secretly, he wished he had a Batman backpack too.)

Tim was in walking distance, about five minutes, from his house when several boys he knew from school, Andrew Long and a group of his friends began trailing him. Perhaps no one else would have noticed, but Tim was quite perceptive and spotted them almost immediately. Nervously, he tried to minimially quicken his pace but the other boys had apparently abandoned all pretenses of subtly and ran to catch up with him. Andrew siezed his arm and pried his small fingers open, revealing the picture clutched between.

"What's this, nerd?" Laughing, the larger boy snatched it from him and studied it with obvious disgust.

Tim froze. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak. The photograph was his most prized possession. His hand, still curled even though nothing was in it, felt empty and naked.

Before Tim could even blink, the picture was floating to the street in tattered pieces, drifting toward the ground like snow in December.

That was when he finally unfroze, and an unfamiliar sensation settled in his gut. Something animalistic took over, it felt like something inside him snapped. He rushed forward, bowling Andrew right off his feet. The two went flying toward the sidewalk but Andrew was bigger and as they fell he flipped the two of them over so that Tim ended up pinned beneath him. "Get offa me!" Tim screeched then immediately tried to cover his mouth in horror, afraid someone might reprimand him for speaking too loudly. The people passing by didn't yell at him for speaking out of turn, in fact none of them even batted an eye as they carried on with their business.

"Boys!" Andrew shouted, motioning to his friends to come closer as he held Tim underneath him. "Whaddya say we teach Tim to respect his betters?" Tim had been confused as the other boys began kicking and pummeling him, one fist connecting with his jaw so that his face snapped to the side and smacked against the sidewalk with a sickening crack. How was this teaching respect? As a boot connected with his rib cage, he quickly realized Andrew wasn't trying to teach him anything- he was mocking him. Tim tried to close his eyes and curl into himself but of course it didn't work. He was caught between the decision of trying to escape or just laying there and waiting for them to finish. His parents hadn't told him what to do for these types of situations. He ended up trying to wiggle out of Andrews grip and curl up into the fetal position at the same time- and if asked how well that worked out for him then his bloodied face and bruised ribs could answer for him.

And then, all of the sudden a shadow darted over the boys' heads and a small flash of red and green knocked Andrew off Tim. It took Tim a moment to realize he wasn't being kicked or punched anymore and after a few seconds of hesitation he cautiously sat up to see what was happening. A new figure was there, slamming Andrew up against a nearby wall, albeit not as roughly as it could have been. This new person was a little taller than Tim, and he was dressed in what appeared to be some sort of red and green uniform. He reminded Tim a little of the holiday his peers would celebrate during winter.  A cape fluttered behind the newcomer and when he turned his head to address Andrew's friends, Tim noticed a small black domino mask covering his eyes.

"If you come near this boy again, I'll do worse next time." The figure spoke huskily, but there was still a boyish undertone to it.

Andrew's friends looked terrified but Andrew himself didn't look very impressed. "If you think I'm scared then you've got another thing coming. You're just one of those no good vigilantes. Batman's sidekick right?" Andrew grinned nastily. "His little pet Robin, the _boy fag_ who can't fight worth a nickel."

It happened so fast that Tim had trouble keeping up. There was swift movement on Robin's part- and not so much on Andrew's. Andrew was on the ground before he knew it, howling in agony and clutching his nose. Blood was dripping between his fingers and Robin was standing over him, smirking and cracking his knuckles. "Not bad for a sidekick huh?"

Andrew and his posse fled before Tim could croak out "Robin".

Robin had helped Tim to his feet and asked him if he was okay. Tim nodded mutely, unsure of how to respond. Thanks? Gee, you're amazing? He ended up just nodding repeatedly but Robin didn't seem to notice.

"Batman's probably gonna be pissed at me for beating up a kid, but I think he deserved it, don't you?"

Tim looked down at the remains of his photograph on the street and nodded again. "Aren't..." His voice came out quiet so Tim cleared his throat and tried again. "Aren't you just a kid too?"

Robin grinned and began to reassemble Tim's ruined photograph. "Yeah, I'm probably not much older than you, kid. But I've been trained for this sort of stuff and I've been where you are. Someone has to stand up for the little guys, right?" Robin took a look at the picture he'd finished taping together and one eyebrow went up in amusement. "Well, would you look at that. You've got a photo of Dickiebird from his prime."

Tim didn't know how to reply to that so he just quietly accepted his picture back. He was tempted to ask who Dickiebird was, but didn't want to waste more time of Robin's than he had already. He decided to investigate later.

"Say, you don't talk much do you?" Robin remarked, looking Tim up and down with an unreadable expression on his face.

Tim lowered his eyes to the cement and shrugged. "I...I don't have a lot of friends," He admitted shyly.

"Bats is gonna kill me for doing this but..." Robin trailed off and gently took Tim's arm. He scribbled something onto Tim's skin that tickled, and when his arm was released he realized that the older boy had written an email address. "There," The Boy Wonder smiled. "Now if ya need me, you can write me."

 


	2. Batman Needs a Robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a turn and Tim realizes that Batman needs someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should mention that this timeline is extremely wrong but it fit better with this story. Or at least, I think so.

Tim has yet to write Robin.

However, the day of the incident he did some research on the subject to see what he could be found. After his parents sent him upstairs for the evening he pretended to sleep for awhile. After he heard them go to their room, he tiptoed downstairs and logged onto his fathers computer account. It was easy enough to navigate the contents of the computer, though he'd hardly ever had a chance to practice.

The first thing he searched for was "Dickiebird" and "dicky bird" but to his utter dismay nothing helpful came up. Tim highly doubted Jason was referring to a retired cricket umpire, a little bird or a small insignificant thing or noise.

Still, 11 Year old Tim was not one to be discouraged so he went back to studying his photograph with a more careful eye. It occurred to him that Robin could have been using a nickname. Judging by the smile on the other boys face and the tone he used to say "Dickiebird" it sounded like he was comfortable with this person or thing. Close enough to use a nickname. Tim had only ever been called "Tim," "Timothy" and "Timmy" so he could deduce that the caped vigilante meant the acrobat he was posing with- Richard Grayson. Or, as Richard preferred to be called- Dick. _Oh_ , Tim realized with a grin, _it's play on words_. He knew he was right.

It'd been so long since he met ~~Richard~~ Dick at the circus.

Tim spent the rest of the night researching as much as he could about Dick Grayson. The son of Mary and John Grayson who traveled with the circus and gave him his education on the road to different cities. He also discovered that after the night of his parents deaths at Haly's Circus Dick was taken in by Gotham's very own billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne and was taken to Wayne Manor. It was unconfirmed if Dick still lived there or not. There was no shortage of gossip on the pair- several articles and pictures about the rich man and his former circus ward were written and a lot of them were very recent. Many speculators suspected that there was some sort of fall out between Bruce and his adopted son.

Tim wondered what his connection could be with Robin. How would he know Batman's sidekick? And how could he be close enough to have been called by a nickname by the Boy Wonder?

After a a various dead ends and several hours of contemplation, Tim called it quits and went to bed. The questions kept nagging at him though and it almost physically hurt that he didn't know the answer. He didn't sleep that night, or the next. Tim didn't like to leave mysteries unsolved.

It was only one day when he was sitting in the kitchen chewing quietly on a strawberry that he got his big break. His father was watching the telly in the living room and although Tim wasn't permitted to sit with him he could see the screen clearly from where he was. Batman was on it and he was fighting a green lady with large multicolored flowers and thick green vines. A red-haired news reporter was rapidly gesturing at the scene behind her and saying something urgent but the volume was too low for Tim to hear. Two more figures dove into the camera frame and Tim noted one of them was Robin. His cape flowed behind him as he sprinted along the top of a rooftop and he was grinning as he talked to the other figure. The person he was speaking with was an older male clad in a black uniform that had brilliant blue stripes that went down his toned arms and some sort of bird emblem which was centered on his muscled chest.

Another vigilante? Tim was surprised because he'd never seen or heard about this one. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched the two new masks rush to Batman's aid. Something seemed oddly familiar about the blue vigilante, but Tim couldn't put his finger on it. Just watching his movements brought back a feeling of nostalgia.

Jack Drake muttered something under his breath and flipped the channel to Gotham's football match against Metropolis. Stunned, Tim opened his mouth to protest the sudden change but thought better of it. He wasn't actually supposed to be watching. Instead, he clambered down from the chair he was on, grabbed his camera and disappeared out the back door. If he was quick his parents wouldn't be the wiser that he'd left. If they found out he was sure to be severely punished. Not like they paid him much attention anyway.

Finding the street wasn't hard- it was only a few blocks away and the screaming and explosions were helpful. Carefully, he raced up an apartment staircase and pulled himself up a steep ledge to come to a rest on the top of one of the highest buildings in Gotham. From here he could see Batman still engaged in fighting the plant lady along with Robin and the other hero. Batman was on the ground hacking at vines to keep them from reaching civilians while the blue hero and Robin stood on the next rooftop over trying to disentangle themselves from thorny vines that had wrapped themselves around their arms and legs.

Tim watched the blue vigilante carefully. He was graceful, that much was obvious. The way he struggled and fought back was entrancing and completely different than Batman or Robins styles. Robin was aggressive. Batman was calculated. But this new vigilante? He weaved and danced. The blue vigilante cut himself free first then helped Robin and the two stood back to back on the rooftop observing the ground below.

Tim quickly got out his camera and waited for something else to happen. If he tilted his head a certain angle, the wind carried a few bits and pieces of the words being exchanged between the vigilantes.

"Robin, get Ivy's attention!"

"Yeah, yeah I know. I swear if any of that disgusting pollen gets on me..."

Tim watched nervously as Robin shimmed down the side of the building, landed on a gargoyle and took a flying leap off of it onto a large vine that was encircling the entire building. Ivy, apparently the green lady's name, was standing on a large plant below, gently waving her arms as if constructing an orchestra. It looked like she was controlling the plants, actually.

"Hey! You're plants are the ugliest pieces of garbage I've ever seen!" Robin shouted, waving his arms wildly and sticking his tongue out. He looked silly, Tim thought to himself. But he was also very brave. Tim wished he was brave enough to do something like that. He took a picture.

Ivy snarled something that Tim couldn't hear. While her attention was on Robin, the blue vigilante flipped off the top of the building several times and gracefully shot out a grappling line to another building. As he flew through the air he snatched Ivy from her plant and held her tightly against his chest. He dropped her from his arms after several feet of soaring and screaming as she fell she dropped promptly into the outstretched arms of the awaiting Batman. She was quickly injected with something. A sedative, Tim assumed.

Tim looked back at his camera, which he'd been busily slamming the button on and hoped he'd gotten some good pictures. Quickly, he hurried off the top of the building and ran back home. He settled back into his chair in the kitchen and his father was oblivious to the fact that he'd gone anywhere. Metropolis was winning by 14 points.

Later, when Tim was developing the photos he noticed something. When the blue vigilante jumped from the building to get Ivy he'd done more than one flip. In fact, as Tim examined the pictures it looked like the blue hero had flipped four times. Four times. That seemed like a lot. Just how many people could do that? Particularly, how many people in Gotham could do that? If there's a term for a sinking suspicion than Tim felt the opposite- he had a rising suspicion.

That night, Tim went back to his fathers computer and immediately opened up the Haly's Circus page and reread what he'd learned about Dick Grayson. And yes, there it was.

_"Dick Grayson is currently the youngest acrobat in the world to have mastered the quadruple flip. On top of that, only a handful of people are able to do it, regardless of age."_

If Tim had money, he would have bet all of it that Dick Grayson was the first Robin. And now here he was, older and going by another persona. Mouth getting slightly dry, Tim went back to an article on Bruce Wayne and his adopted children. Dick Grayson and another one- Jason Todd. Tim studied the broadness of Jason's shoulders and the smirk on the his more sharply defined features. Bruce Wayne was Batman and Jason Todd was Robin. Tim nearly fell out of his chair. With trembling fingers he looked up Gotham's vigilantes but there wasn't anything about Dick's new identity.

Why wasn't Dick Robin anymore?

Quickly, Tim cleared his search history. Unsure of what else he could do, Tim stealthily crept back to his bed and laid perfectly still on top of his mattress. He wanted to write Robin-er, Jason, but now that he knew his secret would the other boy trust him? He was curious. He wanted to know more about Batman and Robin.

That's how it all began. Everyday after school, when his parents were on trips, Tim would go out with his camera and follow Jason and Bruce as they went on patrol. He was discreet, he was good at what he did. He could get on top of high buildings for better vantage points and high quality pictures. Every picture he took went into neatly cataloged boxes underneath his bed. Labels such as "March 18: B and R v. Killer Croc" and etc.

He figured out how to tune into the signal the vigilantes used to communicate with one another and listened in. Tim found out that Dick went by "Nightwing" and judging by how most conversations went he didn't live at the manor anymore.

This went on for several months. It became something of an obsession for Tim. It made him feel apart of something- it almost felt like he was one of them- and oh how he wished he was. He wanted to go up to Wayne Manor, knock on the door and tell Alfred, the butler, that he wished to join their family. But he never did. Watching was as close as he would get. He laughed with them when he saw Dick and Jason jokingly tussle with one another on rooftops. He cried with Batman whenever he failed to save a citizen on time. His parents even began to realize that he was gone often, but they never asked where he went. Tim hoped it was because they were starting to wish for him to be independent and not because they didn't care. They were fairly preoccupied with their archaeological finds anyway. Lately they didn't even seem to be as invested in his education. That was fine. Tim was still doing well in school despite the harassment. Jack and Janet were on their most successful digs lately and were fairly distracted with work.

Tim finally gathered his courage to set up an email account and write Jason a letter.

_Hello Robin,_

_My name is Tim Drake and I'm twelve and a half. I'm sorry I didn't write you sooner. I've been busy, but I really do want to thank you for saving me. Not many people do that. You probably don't remember me- you save a lot of people and it's been a long time._

_I think you've got some neat fighting skills. Not that I've been watching. I'm sorry, did that sound wrong?_

_Oh bother. I don't talk to a lot of people, I'm really sorry. I hope this doesn't cut into your schedule. I'm sure you're busy. You are a superhero after all. I have a few inquiries as to how you operate with Batman but you don't have to answer them. I'm sorry if I've been a bother._

_Sincerely,_

_Tim Drake_

With that Tim sat back in his fathers comfortable swivel chair and waited for a reply. He was nervous. He'd already broken so many rules to get this far. It was wrong...and yet it felt right. Tim swallowed thickly as he watched the clock tick by in the bottom corner of the monitor. 11:01 PM. Of course Jason would be in bed. Why would anyone be emailing at this hour? A little bit sadly, Tim closed the tabs, switched off the monitor and padded back to his room.

The next night, he made his way back to the computer and logged into his brand new email account. And then there it was- one unopened message from Robin. Tim was so excited he forgot to click "open" for a moment. When he finally did, it took him three attempts because his hands were shaking so badly.

_Tim-_

_I never did catch your name that time. That's a nice name. Are u by any chance related to Jack & Janet Drake? They come go to charity fundraisers if u don't know who they are. And of course I remember u, don't be stupid._

_U can ask questions about Bats but I don't know if I can answer. We could meet somewhere sometime. I like u- can I call u Timmy?_

_-Robin_

Eagerly, Tim typed a reply. Jason had actually responded to him. This seemed like a dream. A dream he never wanted to wake up from. Why hadn't he emailed him sooner?

_Robin,_

_I don't much like the nickname Timmy. Anything else would be fine. And yes, my parents are Jack and Janet. Sometimes I go to the events but I've not seen you around. Are you a socialite? You don't have to answer that though because of your secret identity. It's alright._

_What's it like working for the Batman? Is he strict? Is he actually part bat?_

_Sincerely,_

_Tim Drake_

Tim decided he liked waiting for Jason's replies. It soon became their thing. Jason replied usually around midday judging by the time stamps and Tim would answer late in the night.

He laughed out loud when he read that Jason now wanted to call him "Timbo" but he quickly forced the laugh back down when he remembered he was supposed to be in bed. Jason continued to say that Batman was very smart and well meaning but could be intense. And no he was not part bat although sometimes he did seem like that because he was so nocturnal. The two conversed for nearly two straight weeks until Tim sent another email to Robin asking if he really thought they could meet again somewhere.

A reply never came. At first Tim thought maybe it was something he had done. Perhaps asking to meet was wrong. Maybe Jason hadn't meant it. But in his heart, he knew that wasn't true. Jason was many things but he didn't say things like that without meaning it. Tim began to purposely go out at night and wander through the streets to see if he could catch a glimpse of Robin and maybe talk to him. However the following days, Tim didn't see Batman or Robin out on patrol. They'd gone completely silent.

Tim started to feel like he should be doing something. Another week went by of nothing. No messages. No vigilantes out in the city.

Eventually, Bruce did come back out at night but he was different. He was acting more violent toward criminal lowlife than usual, going so far as to send pickpockets to the hospital with fractured ribs and crushed lungs. Tim noticed he was always alone. Where was Dick? Where was Jason? Dick didn't usually patrol with them at night- in fact he was only there every few weeks- but why was he not with his father when Robin wasn't?

Desperate to find out what had caused this change, Tim returned to the computer and searched for Jason's name on the web. The world turned gray for a moment and his head spun wildly when he saw the headline of the first article. **JASON TODD, WARD OF BRUCE WAYNE, PRONOUNCED DEAD AFTER DISASTROUS SCHOOL TRIP IN ETHIOPIA.** That wasn't possible...Tim nearly broke down and cried. The only reason he didn't was because his parents might hear him and he wasn't allowed to cry. That's why his email was never answered.

Unfortunately, Jason's death did explain why Batman had been acting so out of character lately. He figured after Bruce let all of his emotions out he'd be back to normal. Except...after a month it was exactly the same. The aggression wasn't letting up and civilians were beginning to grow more fearful of the Bat's latest mood swing.

Once Tim himself had finished grieving he knew what he had to do. He needed to find Dick Grayson, wherever he'd gone. Batman needed someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy! I don't even know how long this story is going to be. Maybe just three chapters. I've found that dragging stories on sometimes takes away from the original message. So it might be best to keep this one short and simple. It also depends on what you guys would like though.


	3. Red Robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is so comic book inaccurate but my guilty pleasure is twisting the plot to my wishes and making the bat kids happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter had a lot of mistakes that I've fixed now but if you noticed and were confused I'm so sorry!

The longer Batman went on without a partner the more wounds criminals sustained. And it wasn't just them- Tim began to notice that the caped crusader was growing sloppy. He was suffering several injuries of his own as well. If no one else was going to do something...well someone had to.

He found Dick's address after some time of sifting and digging. It wasn't in Gotham though- it was in Blüdhaven. Turned out that over in Blüdhaven they had their own vigilante who also happened to wear blue. It explained why Nightwing wasn't on patrol with Batman or Robin often. Still, Tim had no idea how he was going to get there. It wasn't like he could drive himself.

The mission was important though. Batman needed a Robin again. Tim didn't have to think on it long before he went to his parents safe, took out a small bracelet that hopefully wouldn't be missed and found a car service that could pick him up. He tucked his camera into his back pocket along with a few carefully selected photographs. His parents were off in Peru for at least three more days and since they'd fired the last of the cleaning staff yesterday that meant Tim was free to do whatever he wanted.

The elderly man that came with the car was quiet and he didn't ask any questions as to why a young boy like Tim needed a ride all the way to Blüdhaven. It was only a little more than a half hour drive but rationally a little boy shouldn't be going that far without some sort of guardian with him. Tim was grateful that the driver only seemed interested in minding his own business because he wasn't sure he would have been able to lie convincingly. The man also didn't complain when Tim handed him the gem embedded bracelet as payment- probably because it was worth more than Tim knew. He didn't really care though, this mission was more important than money.

It wasn't too hard to find his way up to Dick's apartment. He passed a grand total of two people in the hallway. One of those two was passed out on the floor and the other was sprinting the opposite direction. Tim wasn't sure if the two events were related or not. Blüdhaven certainly seemed darker than Gotham, which Tim hadn't realized was possible. He knocked on the door with false confidence and waited for it to open. After about it a minute it shifted barely open, half a face appeared through the crack and glanced down at him. A pause and then there was the audible sound of a lock clicking out of place. The door swung wide.

Dick was wearing a loose fitting white cotton t-shirt with a more daring neckline than most would try to pull off. Tim also noticed that below the waist there was only a pair of blue Superman briefs. Apparently, Dick forgoed to wear pants when in the vicinity of his home. He smelled faintly of soap and his hair was damp. A few strands of hair clung to his forehead.

"Hi," The older man said with ease, like he wasn't half-naked. "Can I help you with something? Are you lost?"

Tim visibly swallowed hard. Seeing Dick up close and in person was much different than from the lens of his camera. He was taller than Tim had originally thought. He pointedly kept his eyes locked on the others face. "I...My name is Tim Drake. I know who you are." He scanned the hallway for a second then leaned in and added, "Nightwing."

Dick blinked slowly for a second then put his hand on Tim's shoulder and gently pulled him inside. The door shut behind them.

"Alright, kid. Suppose you're right that I'm some sort of crazy vigilante, alright? Why would you come find me?"

Tim looked up at him earnestly. "I'm not supposing your Nightwing, I know it. You were Batman's partner before that too- the Boy Wonder."

Dick turned his back to him and let out a loud sigh. He walked over to a cluttered sofa and plopped down heavily onto an empty space. "C'mon Tim. Does this even sound rational to you? I'm not a vigilante. I'm just a police officer. We don't even like vigilantes."

Tim followed him over to the sofa and stood by it awkwardly. His hand went to his back pocket and he pulled out two photos of Jason dressed as Robin taken just a few weeks ago. "I came here because of what happened to Jason."

Dick's shoulders immediately tensed and he shifted to look first at the pictures then at Tim's eyes. "How do you know that? Who do you work for?"

Tim sheepishly let his head drop. His shoes had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room. "I'm...I don't work for anyone. I'm a nobody. A little over a year ago Jason saved me from some people who wanted to hurt me. He was Robin at the time but I figured out who he was."

Dick watched him closely, presumably waiting for some facial tick to reveal that he was lying or was hiding bad intentions. When he found none he nodded, albeit a little stiffly. "So, you figured out that Jason was Robin and  your here because of him. Why do you want my help?"

"It's Bruce. He's getting reckless. He can't control himself..." Tim suddenly felt like this might not have been the best idea but he forced himself to go on. "I just thought maybe if you went back to Gotham you could be Robin again. He needs a Robin."

Dick didn't look angry by the proposition but a shadow fell across his face that was decidedly somewhere between sad and thoughtful. When he finally spoke all he said was, "You're very clever Tim to have figured all of this out. Not many people can and I think you understand why we can't have people knowing."

Tim jerked his head up and shook it vigorously. "No, I would never tell anyone. I...I was there at the circus that night. You're like...well, sometimes I feel closer to your family than I do mine." Tim immediately clapped a hand over his mouth. "I mean...I'm sorry. That wasn't...I wasn't..." He trailed off lamely and dropped his eyes back to the floor.

Dick put his hands on his knees and stood with a soft sigh. "Don't be sorry, Tim. And you're right about Bruce. He's cut off all connections. I haven't been able to get a hold of him for quite some time...I think it's time you and I paid him a visit."

"You and I?" Tim echoed softly.

Dick smiled warmly down at him as he grabbed a pair of pants from the couch and started to tug them on. "Of course. There's something about you kid that makes me trust you. My judgement tells me to bring you along." He paused momentarily. "And...well, I've got an idea. If you like it then maybe...maybe instead of me helping you then you can help me."

* * *

Tim stood outside Wayne Manor feeling a little cold. He peeked over at the street where Dick was sitting on his motorcycle. The older man gave him a reassuring smile.

Tim nodded uneasily back and pressed the doorbell. Shivering, he rubbed his bare arms slowly with hands. His cape was blowing softly behind him. It felt strange against his back.

Alfred appeared in the doorway. He took in Tim's attire. "I'm sorry, but Halloween isn't for a few more months."

Tim shook his head, probably a little too forcefully. "I want to talk to Batman. Could you please get him for me?"

Alfred scanned the street until his eyes landed on Dick who was innocently perched on his motorcycle. He gave the butler a small wave. Alfred's eyes were unreadable as he gazed down at Tim once more then nodded. "I'll see if I can get him out of the cave. Please, come inside."

Tim had barely been seated on the enormous sofa for more than a minute or two when Bruce, dressed in full Batman attire, stormed into the room. He was taken aback by the intense look in the mans eyes as he came to a halt in front of Tim. 

"Why are you here?"

Tim got to his feet, trying to keep his knees from trembling. He tried to remember what he and Dick had practiced on the way over. "My name is Tim. Tim Drake. And...you need a partner."

Bruce's face flashed dangerously for a moment but he didn't lash out as Tim half expected he would. Instead, he ground out through gritted teeth, "I suppose you want to be Robin then."

Tim nodded solemnly. "You need someone to make you slow down a bit. How many times have you been hurt the past few months? I'm concerned...and so is Dick."

Bruce slipped the cowl from his face his eyes narrowing. "So, Dick sent you here. Dick sent you so I could put another child in danger."

"No, that's not it," Tim protested, reaching out an arm to stop Bruce from turning away. Instantly, his arm was locked in Bruce's vise like grip and he was pushed harshly backward. Tim used the momentum to drop to the floor and tumble backward so he could land carefully on his feet. 

Bruce watched him, looking momentarily guilty and a bit surprised. "I'm sorry, Tim. But this isn't up for discussion."

"I don't know much, Batman," Tim admitted quietly as he lifted an arm to rub his cold arms. "But if there's one thing I've always been sure of it's that Batman will need a Robin, and Robin will need a Batman."

Bruce briefly glanced at Alfred hovering near the door then back at the young boy in front of him. 

* * *

 

The first thing Tim did was add sleeves to the Robin costume. It looked better to him and was more practical in fights. The shorts left as well and were replaced by long black tights that kept him warm during the cold nights patrolling the city. Bruce suggested extra padding underneath, several hidden pockets and they were taking extra precautions to make it bulletproof. Dick had even started helping on making it fireproof.

It was a strange thing, being a vigilante. It was taking a lot of his time. It took some adjusting at first and a lot of sneaking around his parents. Tim knew he used to be shyer, cowardly even. Being Robin changed all of that- it was like he'd been missing a part of himself. Having Robin to change into at night gave him confidence.

After dinner he would go to his room, crack a window open and run along the length of his roof before shooting a grappling hook off the edge and flying off and over the street. It was a feeling nothing he'd ever felt.

Often, he returned at one or two in the morning. He didn't usually fall asleep right away. Instead he'd get the laptop Bruce gave him from under the floorboards and continue researching cases.

His box of pictures was still under his bed but Tim hardly looked at them anymore. He didn't need to.

* * *

 

"So, you're my replacement." The man stood in front of Tim with a gun pointed directly at his face.

Tim knew it had been stupid to split up from Batman, especially in an abandoned subway station that he knew nothing about. He'd seen an opportunity and decided to take it but was certainly regretting that decision now.

"You're pretty small," The man continued, pacing around Tim and sizing him up. A soft flick to his right shoulder made Tim flinch slightly and he mentally cursed himself. 

"A bit jumpy too," The man sounded amused but it was hard to tell.

"Get to the point," Tim replied evenly. "If you're going to kill me then do it."

The Red Hood paused his pacing so he was in Tim's field of vision. "How'd the Batman pick you up then, hm? Catch you stealing his tires too?"

 _Stealing his tires too._ He couldn't mean... Tim watched the mans body language for signs of lying. It was hard to tell with the helmet over his face. Alfred had told him a story not long ago...but it couldn't be.

"Who are you?" Tim got out, voice a little strangled.

"Take your best guess, Boy Wonder," The Red Hood shrugged rather nonchalantly. He easily gave his gun a quick spin.

"I..." Tim knew this was either going to be a great decision or the worst mistake he'd ever make. "Don't shoot, alright? I just want to get something from my belt. It isn't a weapon."

"If I see anything that even looks like a weapon a bullet's going through your forehead," The Hood answered matter-of-factly.

Tim slowly reached into his belt and pulled out a bottle of solution. He reached up with both hands and applied it to the edges of his mask, quickly and efficiently.

"That's not..." The Hood seemed at a loss for words for a change.

Tim lifted the mask from his face with slight hesitation and blinked out at the Red Hood.

"Tim?" The man sounded shocked. "Tim Drake..." There was a hissing noise and then the hood was lifted from the man's face. The gun clattered to the ground, forgotten.

* * *

 

"Scoot over you asshole," Jason dropped onto Tim's leg before he had time to move it. The entire couch shifted with the added weight and Damian's bowl of popcorn flew into the air.

"Todd!" The younger boy growled, turning to give Jason his best Bat stare. He grabbed the remote from the table, hit pause and stood up.

Jason merely grinned coyly back.

Tim wrenched his leg out from under Jason and continued tapping at the keyboard on his laptop, ignoring the fight that was likely to break out.

However, instead of taunting Damian, Jason melted back against the cushions. "Watcha doin' there, Timbo?" He asked, leaning over Tim to get a look at what was on the screen. "You can't possibly be working on a case on a Friday night."

"Wouldn't be anything new," Tim replied without taking his eyes off his work. "But no, I'm not. Just doing some suit adjustments."

Damian tutted to his right as he sat back down. "That's stupid. You know I'm going to take your place soon. Why bother?"

Tim thought he should be annoyed. But he couldn't be- this was his family regardless of blood. Damian wasn't as hard-headed as he liked everyone to believe. Tim had seen the other side of him.

"Actually, Damian this suit isn't for Robin."

Jason's eyes went to the title above the suit. "Red Robin."

"Red Robin?" Damian asked curiously, shifting closer so he could see the screen as well. "I don't understand."

Tim smiled and enlarged the image so his brothers could see it better. "It's for me."

Jason cracked his own smile. "So, you're stealing the 'red' part of my name."

Tim shrugged good naturedly. "I'll give the color something to be proud of."

Jason laughed at that. "Ouch."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the end. Thank you so much for reading! I thought this was a really fun one to write, even if this isn't how it went down at all. I think we all just want the Batfamily to be happy. I know I do.


End file.
